


The Backstory And The Heartbreak

by twominutesfromsleep



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Death, But I fix it, Doctor Hange Zoë, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Female Homosexuality, Fluff and Smut, Heartbreak, I hate tags, I'm totally going to make Jean and Marco have a baby, Lesbian Hange, Lesbian Sex, Lesbians, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mild Language, Minor Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer, OFC - Freeform, Onocologist Hange, There will be a spinoff story featuring the whole gang, everything is all right in the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5756692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twominutesfromsleep/pseuds/twominutesfromsleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily has her PhD in Zoology and works part time as a professor and as a specialist at the Local Natural History Museum. Her life is as simple as it is predictable. Every Friday she goes to Erwin's a pub with the best fish and chips she's found yet and lets the strange bar tender try to guess what she was up to that day by sniffing her. She didn't go there to get sniffed, she went for the fish and chips, it was just an unfortunate side effect. </p><p>And she never picks up women in bars. But she never said she couldn't get picked up right? </p><p>Hange Zoe is an onocologist who works at a hospital with Levi, a cardiothoracic surgeon, and Erwin, a neurosurgeon. Erwin's, Mike's pub is a regular haunt for them. But when Mike starts telling them about the strange and somewhat lonely girl that frequents every Friday at 6 o'clock. She is as intriguing to Hange as Hange is to her. </p><p>When the trio starts dropping by to scope her out Emily takes notice...and finds that she doesn't mind all that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a spin off story from the main story line which follows the hospital where the whole gang works if all goes to plan. 
> 
> Also...I stink at editing. Please be forgiving. I tried to read through it several times. If you see any mistakes I will do my best to correct them.

She never picked anyone up at bars. It wasn’t a decision that she consciously made, but once she made it, she never contradicted it. So when she found herself at the pub, a tray of fish and chips and a stout in front of her after a long day of work, she had no reason to believe that today would be unlike any other. 

She wasn’t alone, the place was a regular haunt for more than just herself. She didn’t pay much attention to the subdued boisterousness around her and instead took a long draught of her bitter to wash down a bite of the battered fish. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a group of three in a booth. The two men and a woman caught her eye and she continued to watch them out of her peripherals as she ate. All three had an easy air about them, partly due to their casual dress, but more so from the way they carried themselves. One looked like a porn star, the other an L.L. Bean model, and the woman had the most intriguing features, not exotic, but striking. And they had the confident assurance that came with not only looking good, but belonging. Every once in awhile one or two of them would look her way, but she ignored it and enjoyed the peace of a good meal after a taxing day. 

Eventually her chips ran out and after licking the last of the salt and malt vinegar off her fingers, taking the last gulp of her stout, and letting out an appreciative sigh, she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. She left a tenner on the counter on her way out, giving a wave over her shoulder to the bar tender. 

“See ya next week Mike.” She called over her shoulder. He gave a good-natured chuckle and sent her off with a wave as he handed the woman from the table another full stein over the counter. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck.” She sighed as she eased into the bar stool. It was Friday night...again. Mike chuckled at her from the other side of the bar. She didn’t take any offense. The easy, comfortable atmosphere and laid back bartender was why she chose to frequent the place. Well...and the food. 

It had been another long week at work. Not that she didn’t love it or realize how lucky she was to be doing what she was passionate about. But a long day at work was a long day at work and she had a research paper she was trying to polish and get published and going through peer review could be strenuous. 

“Long week?” Mike offered as he slid her a stout. She gave him a tired smiled before taking a swig. 

“Long month.” She set the bottle back down at the bar and paid him for the drink and her usual order and a tip. He took it and slid it into the register on his way back to the kitchen. 

She took a moment to look over the scene. The place was quiet for a Friday night, but after visiting every Friday habitually for months she learned that the place had an ebb and flow and it wasn’t always predictable. But if she had to guess, she would wager that it’d pick up around 7:30 and increase from there. It was only 6 now. 

A booth diagonal from her chair caught her eye and she let her gaze linger. There, looking effortlessly beautiful were the three friends from last week. She let her gaze linger on them a little longer this time. Looking over each individual thoroughly. 

The shortest one, even sitting down this was obvious, had hair so black it would have looked as if it was from a bottle if not for it’s luster, it was true black and when the light hit it it reflected blueish instead of brown. It was styled in an edgy undercut that looked more mature than rebellious on him. His skin in contrast was a flawless alabaster. He was definitely in shape, the way his crisp white, and obviously tailored, button up shirt fit gave that away. The sleeves had been folded up in a way that was to precise to be careless, but made the shirt look more casual as it was obviously workplace attire. His features themselves were cut and almost aggressive due to their sharpness. A pointed jaw, a small, thin pointed nose. Severe eyes. She couldn’t make out the color, he was looking at his companion. 

The man that currently held his gaze wore a men’s pea coat. The color closer to charcoal than black, which would have been too severe against his warmer coloring. His blonde hair was cut in a fade that was stunningly precise. And it didn’t end there. His face was the epitome of masculinity. Square jaw. Perfect rows of white teeth that flashed when he spoke and she assumed if he ever smiled. His whole presence exuded strength. The way he carried his broad shoulders, and how even when he leaned forward his back remained straight. The darker haired male’s posture was also flawless, if not a little rigid compared to the easier way the blonde man carried himself. Perhaps the most striking feature about him was his eyebrows. They were thick and a shade darker then his hair, which was a bit darker at the roots itself where it hadn’t been naturally (at least she assumed so) bleached. She could just make out his eyes were a sky blue and focused on the man on his right. 

The girl she couldn’t make out. The woman’s back was too her and all she could see was the mop of brunette hair that trailed behind the woman even in a ponytail, the kind that looked unintentional but was to perfectly disheveled to be anything but meticulous.

Mike slid a tray between the elbows on the counter she was using to support her head while she innocently checked out the other patrons. 

She looked back over at the sandy blonde mustached bartender. He gave a quick sniff before he retreated back to washing glasses. It was a strange habit of his that she had grown accustomed to. 

“What were you working on today?” He didn’t look up at her when he spoke, but then again neither did she. She was already digging into the offering applying a generous amount of malt vinegar before hastily chewing to answer. 

“Julidomorpha saundersi.” She momentarily forgot about the food in front of her as she began to recount the days specimens. “It’s called the Jewel beetle. It’s orange in color and the males get randy when they see florescent orange. So the department head for entomology decided to conduct some experiments regarding shade of color and also size and type of object to see how it would affect their breeding patterns or rather attempts.” She tried not to go into too much innocuous detail about the experiment as the sexual preferences of a beetle weren’t many people’s idea of a thrilling conversation but Mike was easy going and always took her strange interests in stride. 

“So you pimped out beetles all day?” She momentarily choked on the bite of chips and took a swig of stout to keep from sputtering. She came up laughing and Mike showed the faintest hint of a smirk, she’d rarely seen him outright smile. 

“Would you like me to video it next time? A little something for when you’re feeling lonely at night?” She jested as she chomped away at one of the chips rebelliously. Mike chuckled and shook his head, before heading over to help a customer gesturing at the end of the bar. 

She turned her attention back to the meal at hand, still absentmindedly smiling to herself. That’s when she caught a cold stare out of the corner of her eye, she turned slightly to get a better look at the unflinching grey eyes that had met hers. She found that the entire booth was openly watching her, including the woman with the messy pony tail, her torso twisted so she could look at her directly. 

She hurriedly looked away, feeling for the first time in the friendly pub, out of place. She hyper focused onto her food to avoid looking at them again. She didn’t give the whole exchange much thought though. She had just been talking about beetle sex for God’s sake. She would probably stare at her too. 

With a sigh she slumped a little while kicking her head back to finish off her drink. She didn’t normally order more than one, but her mouth didn’t normally go dry from a group of attractive strangers openly staring at her.

She gestured to Mike, “Beer. Tap, please.” He raised an eyebrow but filled her order without question. She tried to give him additional payment for it but he gently pushed her hand and the money back. 

“On the house.” She didn’t argue with that, instead giving him a grateful (if not a little bit sheepish) smile. They rarely spoke, but they shared a camaraderie that comes from being a regular at the establishment. Plus, she guessed that Mike found her interesting. His keen sense of smell always getting thrown for a loop trying to guess what she’d been up to that day. Her job made it almost impossible for him to guess, something that if she had to guess, he wasn’t used too. 

She was halfway through her food and the beer when someone came and sat down at the bar beside her. 

“Mike can I get another brandy for your boy over there? And I’ll take another rum and coke. I think Levi’s drinking scotch.” Three glasses were placed onto the bar the woman was leaning forward on with folded arms and Mike proceeded to fill them. The faceless woman’s voice had a bit of a husk to it that nearly sent shivers down her spine. 

“What are you drinking?” The way she spoke, it sounded like she was friends with Mike, or just the overly familiar type. The kind that would offer to buy a good looking bartender a drink. When there was no response she looked up from her fries to Mike, whose eyes were trained on her and then over to the source of the question, which she was coming to realize was directed at her. 

“Oh, uh, beer?” She hadn’t realized the woman intended to do anything with the information until she cocked her head to Mike for him to fill the order. She hurriedly raised a hand in reassurance, but Mike slid her a stout instead and went back to the other drinks.

I turned my attention back over to the girl next to me. She had yet to actually look over at me through the whole exchange, instead watching Mike fill the glasses with the amber liquid. 

“Do you accept human advances or are you only into beetles?” That deliciously husky voice asked and she started, turning abruptly back to her order. She was sure her face was red with how unbearably warm it had become. She could see out of the corner of her eye that the woman still hadn’t turned to look at her directly yet and she took courage. She angled herself to the woman while she let herself get a better look. 

She was undeniably attractive, but in an unconventional way. Her cheekbones were high and prominent, and her jaw came to a point in a very Julia Roberts kind of way. Her general face shape was a bit on the oval side and her nose oddly rectangular. Her features individually were all a bit strong (and slightly on the masculine side) and combined, they were unusual. It warranted more than just a second glance. She was gorgeous. 

Her hair wisped around her face and framed her penetrating eyes. Her gaze was so direct for a moment she was glad it wasn’t focused on herself. 

“Both. The beatles only satisfy for so long after all.” She had intended to make a joke about their lifespans, but she was pretty sure the whole thing would fall flat anyway so she didn’t bother clarifying her joke.

She was genuinely shocked when the a smile seemed to crack the woman’s physad. It warmed up her features and made those wide eyes shine. A hand was held casually her way and she took it, giving it a polite shake. 

“Names Hange.” Those eyes were now fully focused on her, holding her gaze almost forcefully. They were a soft brown that looked almost a bit violet. 

“Emily.” She retracted her hand but the feel of her-Hange’s-firm handshake lingered, sending pleasurable jolts of warmth up her arm. Hange’s own hand went to pick up the drinks that Mike had long since finished pouring. 

“Nice to meet you Emily.” She took a drink of her rum and coke and set it back down on the counter with the others. She picked up all three using both hands and carried them to the booth she shared with, what had she said his name was? Levi? Levi and the other guy. 

Emily went back to her now cold dinner. She finished off her stout and left the half stein of warm beer on the counter. She wiped her fingers off on a napkin, cocked her chin at Mike in a customary good bye and headed for the door. 

She wondered if the trio would be back again next Friday. Maybe they were a new group of regulars. Emily couldn’t decide if she minded or not. They did seem to already know Mike. For all she knew they could have been coming there long before she ever had stumbled upon the place months ago. 

She almost made it to the door when a still new but familiar voice called out to her to hold up. Emily turned to see Hange jog up to her with her own jacket in hand. She’d hadn’t realized she’d forgotten it. She supposed the break in routine had caused her carelessness. Hange was wearing that smile again. It was easy almost careless, but there was a purpose behind it that made Emily wonder if everything this woman did was calculated on some level. 

“You forgot you're jacket and it’s cold as ass out there so you’d regret it.” Emily chuckled and reached out and took the offered jacket slipping it onto her shoulders almost immediately. 

“Thanks.” She turned to leave but the voice stopped her again. 

“I thought about slipping my number into one of the pockets, but then I figured I’d be better off asking for yours anyway.” Emily found that for the first time, she was regretting her no pub rule. Quite a lot actually. 

But it hadn’t let her astray so far. 

With a soft smile to the striking woman, oh god, she couldn’t believe she was doing this, she faced the woman again. “You know I’m almost tempted to give it to you, but I have this thing about going out with people I meet in places with bars.” She hoped that she believed her, that she could sense her regret. 

Who was she kidding? This woman was gorgeous and quick witted. She probably didn’t care if an ordinary blyter like herself turned her down. They’d probably have a laugh once she’d gone. Still, Emily felt the need to soften the blow. She really doubted that this woman was like that anyway. 

“That’s too bad. After all, who’s to dictate to fate where two people meet?” Her words perplexed Emily a little, and she let her brows knit together like a scarf as she marched her way into the cold. She had a point. Who was she to say when and where two people should meet. Didn’t she herself go to pubs? Did that make her disreputable? Should that mean that anyone should decline her advances? Just because she liked a good stout and some chips? Or the occasional whiskey? Oh well...she supposed the woman would assume she refused because she wasn’t a lesbian or something like that and....

“Fancy meeting you here!” Emily’s brow furrowed deeper as she looked up to see the source of the greeting, she wasn’t farther than 8 feet from the pub. She turned to see a lithe figure leaning against the wood window frame of Erwin’s, the pub. The tension in her forehead left as she recognized her as Hange. She was surprised to say the least. 

“And would you look at that. Neither of us is in a pub!” Her carefree smile was almost devilish. A bit like the cat that got the cream. Emily found a smile creeping onto her lips unbidden but she forced it back, for now. 

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow and looked around, feigning innocence. “You don’t say?” Hange’s grin came full force now. It was a bit Casanova and it made Emily’s stomach flip. In a very good way. 

“Mhm. And you never know where we could end up meeting again. I think we’re better off just agreeing to meet somewhere before hand.” She sidled up to Emily as she spoke and it drew an infectious laugh she hardly recognized as her own from her lips. 

“And where would you suggest we meet?” She enjoyed the flirtation, something she hadn’t had in a while. And it wasn’t just that it had been a while, it was who was doing the flirting. Hange put her at ease despite her unfair good looks and intellect that was obvious from everything she’d seen since she caught her eye two weeks ago. 

“Fancy a cuppa?” Hange had her hands in the pockets of her leather bomber. The casual stance help put Emily at ease, as much as one could with a veritable model asking them to coffee. She was consequently a bit slow on the uptake of the actual meaning of her words. 

“Wait...now?” She guessed by now her face was permanently a dark shade of pink. Hange chuckled and it, like everything else about her, had a sultry lilt to it. 

“Why not?” People said things like ‘why not’ all the time as a kind of replacement for ‘carpe diem’ but the way Hange said it was distinctly different. Hange said it like she really didn’t see why now wasn’t a great time and that she saw no reason to follow any supposed rules of courtship. Probably rules in general. 

Emily noticed Hange’s eyes shine with a smile, the pleased kind, before she noticed that she herself had at some point broke into an ear splitting grin. Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her and she was helpless to stop it. 

“Ya.” She said around it. “Ya, I’d love to grab some coffee.”


	2. There Is Always A 'Before You and I"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild Language. Also a warning that there will be mentions of homophobia in this fic. Mostly just the OFC's own inner dialogue about keeping her sexuality quiet to avoid any backlash. 
> 
> This Chapter is set before the first one. It outlines a bit of who Emily is and how she found the pub. It's life before Hange. Thus the chapter title.
> 
> More notes at end of chapter.

Emily tossed her keys onto her only slightly cluttered desk with a clatter. Her jacket barely caught on the corner of her chair. She headed toward the break room while she peeled her gloves off. She made it halfway to the coffee maker before a cheery voice interrupted her. 

“Emily!” 

Sasha had a kind of energy that was infallible. In fact in her 4 years of working here she had only seen her anything but what one could mildly call hyperactive once. 

Today was no different. Sasha bounded up to her, auburn ponytail swishing behind her with every skip in her step. Emily tried to hold back the smile that threatened and instead adopted an expression of false sobriety as she began putting together a cuppa. 

“Emily! You’ll never believe what came in today!” She danced from Emily’s left side to right, physically incapable of holding still in her excitement. 

Emily herself was getting giddy. She had forgotten they were getting a shipment of donations today, including a new arapaima specimen that she had been dying to get her hands on. Instead of giving away her true feelings she looked from her coffee mug to Sasha and raised an eyebrow as she casually turned in the direction of the loading bay where the shipment would have come in.

“Connie’s balls?” Connie and Sasha had been dancing around each other since they started working there two years ago as interns while still attending Uni. Neither one had yet to make a move and Emily’s ‘hints’ to them were getting more and more glaringly obvious. 

An indignant scoff echoed from somewhere down the hall in the direction of the inventory. 

“I’ll have you know my balls dropped normally with puberty!” There was a pause and then, “Both of them!” Emily finally let herself drop her mask of morning attitude. She wasn’t fooling anyone anyway. She was up at 5 to go jogging with her dog anyway so by the time she got to work at 8 she’d been awake for 3 hours. She was an unrepentant morning person. 

“Good to know you’re not a eunuch Connie.” She chuckled and continued moving toward the source of the voice, Sasha trailing along. “But I was speaking metaphorically.”

When she rounded the corner she came face to face with the spineless man himself. His hair was buzzed so close to his head he was one razor away from bald. He undeniably had African blood somewhere in his ancestry, but his own skin was a light color that varied drastically from anyone with true genes. 

“Hey! I take offense to that!” He indignantly straightened to his full height like it somehow proved he did in fact have metaphorical balls. Sasha snorted. 

“Connie I’ve seen squirrel specimens with bigger testes that you.” Emily choked on her coffee at Sasha’s response. Connie’s carmel skin blushed a light shade of pink and what balls he did probably shrunk in embarrassment. 

“Sasha be nice.” She admonished with an empathetic pat to the injured parties shoulder. “You’re going to give him erectile dysfunction.” With a grin, and leaving Connie behind with hunched shoulders and a choked sound stuck in his throat, she moved to the boxes piled against the wall. 

This was better than Christmas. 

She set her coffee on a nearby desk and set to sorting through the boxes, resolutely ignoring Sasha (who only seemed to be making it worse) coddling a dejected Connie.

“You know what they say Connie, it’s not the size that matters, it’s what you do with it.”

“And besides girth and length are more important than teste size.”

“Too big can be just as problematic as too small. You’re probably better off.” 

She continued on this train until Connie threw up his hands and retreated in shame, a cackling Sasha following after. 

“Most women can’t come from solely vaginal stimulation anyway!”

Emily found herself rolling her eyes Sasha’s relentless antics. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Emily groaned and pushed herself back from her desk, letting her chair spin out across the floor. She rolled her neck and arched her back until it gave a satisfied pop. She’d been writing for 4 hours straight working on her paper on the discoveries from her last expedition. She was trying to get it published at an international level. Regardless, she needed a break. If only because her eyes were burning from staring at a computer screen for hours on end. 

Not even bothering to get out of her chair she used her feet to propel herself down the hall to Sasha’s office. The budding entymologist was preserving the latest shipment of ants that came in this morning. 

“Sasha I think I’m getting arthritis. Is that possible at this age. I’m too young for this!” She slumped helplessly in her chair dramatically, but the focused latina didn’t even look up. She tried again. 

“I think I’m developing an ulcer too. I haven’t eaten since this morning and I can feel my stomach acid eating away at the lining. I need sustenance.” I threw my arm over my eyes to block out the rude florescent lights. It was a low blow, resorting to food, but it was the one card she knew that would get Sasha’s attention. 

Right on queue, Sasha’s eyes looked up from the lense of her microscope. Slow and predatory. A singular eyebrow inched it’s way up her forehead. Emily felt a flash of fear and almost regret. 

“Food?” Sasha’s voice was eerily quiet and accompanied by the squeak of Emily’s chair which was the only other sound in the room, it set a dangerous scene. 

“I mean if you know anywhere we can-” She didn’t even get a chance to finish her sentence before Sasha was dragging her back to her office by her sleeve, wheels squeaking the whole way. 

That’s how she ended up in a quaint pub with the name Erwin’s across traditional wooden facade at 2 in the afternoon. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thus a tradition was born. Every Friday at 6 Emily would stop by Erwin’s on her way home from work and order the same thing until it was like clockwork. 

Emily walked into the pub. Mike would slide her a bottle of a dark stout and head back to the kitchen while she began nursing her drink. He would return with a platter of fish and chips and a bottle of malt vinegar. Emily would put more than a generous helping on her fries and dig in. 

She learned that the place was mostly frequented by those over the age of 25, for which she was grateful. She also learned that Mike had a penchant for smelling people. 

Every day when she took her seat at the bar he would give her a discreet sniff and a strange look before going back to whip up her usual. At first Emily thought nothing of it, then she began to wonder if she smelled like the formaldehyde and preservatives from the office, finally she asked him. 

“I don’t smell do I?” Mike looked a little taken aback at her forwardness, but she pressed on. “It’s just that I work at a Natural History Museum. I work with dead things all day. Sometimes it lingers.” It wasn’t something that she even felt self conscious about anymore. She got used to weird looks on the subway on the way home when she didn’t take her car after a particularly gruesome day. She learned to just be upfront with it. 

To her surprise Mike cracked the biggest grin she’d ever seen on the man after two months of showing up weekly. And he laughed. A deep baritone laugh that was rich and dark like her drink of choice. 

“I have a sensitive nose. I’ve been curious about what you do for a living.” Emily laughed herself. If she was attracted to men she would have fallen for Mike for sure. That smile and voice paired with his good looks and physique would have women swooning. 

“What did you think I did?” She tried to imagine what he could have thought, everything a little on the macabre side. His smile had dropped by now, but his eyes maintained a teasing glint. He shrugged off hand. 

“Mortician, taxidermy, glue factory…” She laughed a full bellied laugh, warmed by the good food, good drink, and good company. 

“Close.” She took another drink. “I do taxidermize. And I guess I am a bit of a mortician.” The conversation was cut off by a girl who looked to be no more that 22 slid up to the bar to ask for an Irish whiskey. Mike moved to help her and I took a moment to discreetly look her over. 

There was no harm in looking. 

Her posture against the bar caused her lower back to curve and her buttocks to become more prominent. And what a great ass it was. It deserved to be showcased. The denim followed the curve down to her tight thighs. Her hair whispered against the curve of her neck. It was a delicious strawberry blonde that fucking glowed. She was short, barely reaching the bar so her breasts hit against the corner of the counter. 

Emily quickly averted her gaze and and unwittingly finished off her stout. She set it down against the wooden bar a little too loudly and she flinched. Eyes darting up to see if she drew any attention to herself. She found herself being thoughtfully eyed by the man on the other side. She blushed and hurriedly turned back to her food, eating too quickly until the girl left with her drink in hand and Emily could breath again. 

She thought about trying to resume the conversation with Mike, but when he didn’t make any move to do so she assumed her worst fears were confirmed. Any friendship they’d begun to form over the last couple months would probably end here as most did when they put two and two together and made four. Emily avoided looking at the bartender for the rest of her meal. 

Without much further thought she paid her tab and hurried out of the warmth and into the early fall chill before either her or Mike could say another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guess who the girl at the bar was??? 
> 
>  
> 
> I'll give you a hint. 
> 
> Petra.
> 
> Petra Ral.


End file.
